


a fog (in my mind)

by jargedcoffee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst, Bipolar Disorder II, Fic Rewrite, Fluff, Forgive Me, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I tried my best, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Trigger Warning: Mental Illness, anna might be ooc, because I don't remember season 4 anna, coffee shop AU, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-03 06:06:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19457932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jargedcoffee/pseuds/jargedcoffee
Summary: After Castiel finished trudging through the last months of college, he suspected that he suffered from a mental illness, and it was confirmed by a psychiatrist he met right after graduation. Stability and peace becomes his number one priority - at the cost of everything: friends, relationships, life.One day, he meets Dean Winchester, and he's presented with a new decision: to stay where he is now, in comfort and peace, or risk his stability for a chance at happiness.Anna finds ways to make him choose happiness.





	a fog (in my mind)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [What Would I Be Without You?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14764545) by [jargedcoffee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jargedcoffee/pseuds/jargedcoffee). 



> I wrote a version of this fic last year (https://archiveofourown.org/works/14764545/chapters/34143672), and I dropped it because I just didn't like how I wrote stories back then. After a lot of thinking, and working on a Detroit: Become Human fic, I decided to rewrite this story to test out my improved writing skills. I hope it's gotten better. So let me know.
> 
> Hit me up at @jargedcoffee on Tumblr for any comments (or just comment below), suggestions, and just general thoughts you wanna share. My ask box is open for anything.

_Euthymia_

_n. A normal, tranquil mental state or mood._

Castiel’s psychiatrist explained that word to him the first day they met right after his graduation. Rain poured in droves outside, and lightning boomed across the yellow-lit office every so often as he sat on the classic therapy couch, distracting him one too many times while his doctor prescribed his medication. “Your condition isn’t curable by today’s medicine, but it can certainly be managed,” said the psychiatrist as he looked down at his prescription pad, adjusting his glasses. The psychiatrist gave him a courteous smile as he handed over the prescription. It didn’t make Castiel feel better at all.

As Castiel stepped out of the office, his future flashed before his eyes: a life of popping pills, endless mood swings, and dark thoughts. He kept calculating how much work he’d have to put in - a part time job aside from a full time job - just to afford the medication alongside paying off his student loans, not to mention the fact that he’d have to do it all while suffering from _bipolar disorder_ . _Type II_ , he’d add to his thoughts a second later.

Lucky for him, his psychiatrist hadn’t lied...that much. Two months passed and his mood swings stopped sending him to his bed to either sleep for 17 hours a day or staring at the ceiling trying to sleep and nodding off for 1 hour instead. “I’m happy for you, Castiel. Even your facial expression looks much lighter,” his psychiatrist told him. He knew what his doctor meant: the dark circles under his eyes, almost a permanent feature the past few years, had begun to lighten.

He’d still experience episodes of himself sitting in the corner of his room, head between his knees and arms hugging his legs, willing the dark thoughts to go away. But at least - at least he could function.

Praise the lord, perhaps.

* * *

Months later, he sat at the two-person dining table in his small, quaint, one-bedroom apartment, in front of the only friend he’d bothered keeping after graduation, Anna Milton.

“Say cheese, Cas,” said Anna, raising her phone in front of Castiel’s face, a bright smile on her face showing off her unnaturally white teeth.

Castiel froze for a second, eyes wide, and when the initial flash lit up, he rushed a hand to his face to cover himself, showing off how he hated picture-taking with a passion. “Too late!”, said Anna, who smirked, and then giggled to herself as she eyed her phone afterwards, fingers almost covering her lips and her red hair trailing down her shoulders.

“You know I don’t enjoy people taking photos of me,” said Castiel as he put down his fork onto his plate. Anna put her phone down and looked at him with her trademarked puppy dog eyes, which she often said Castiel had too, and that was why they were friends.

“It’s a great photo, Cas. Besides, it’s your birthday.” She started taking a bite out of her slice of the red velvet cake she’d bought for Castiel, before taking her phone again, and saying, “Take a look. It’s the cutest you’ve been since college.”

Castiel rolled his eyes before resigning and looking at the photo, and he had to hold back a laugh, because his movements had blurred the photo, making his widened eyes look absolutely crazy. He did find it funny, but he had to maintain that he didn’t like photos of him, so he just gave a _hmm,_ a shrug, and that was that.

Anna wouldn’t drop it, of course, and just had to add, “You’re like a scared puppy here. I’ll keep this and post it _everywhere_.” Castiel gave her his signature glare, which usually discouraged people, but she just giggled again.

Anna knew him well. Too well.

“So,” started Anna as she put a fork in her mouth, “23 years old. Any big plans?”

“Nothing significant. I am still far from paying off my student loans, and I certainly don’t have time for anything else given my work.” Sure, that was the short answer. The long answer was that, while Castiel was a stickler for plans, he didn’t exactly like planning out his life. Planning his life made him anxious, and his psychiatrist had told him again and again to avoid “things that have a negative impact on your mood”, unless absolutely necessary. For now, he felt content where he stood, working one full-time and one part-time job at home as a programmer, and he didn’t need anything else to add to the stress of his workload.

Anna gave him _that_ look - the one where her hands weren’t doing anything, but Castiel could just imagine them punching his arm. “Come on. You barely go out these days - I haven’t seen you outside, since like, a year ago?”

“That is an exaggeration,” said Castiel. Although, if anyone were to tell him that he _had_ turned into a hermit, he couldn’t really deny it given the evidence: he’d only go out for groceries or the rare offline errands these days, and Anna felt more than willing to just drop by his place since she worked nearby. He just couldn’t find any other reason to go out.

“Have you thought about, oh, I don’t know, _meeting people_ again?” asked Anna, with a knowing look on her face as she stared Castiel down. Her smile had faded, and Castiel knew they were entering a...difficult conversation they’d had far too many times, so he opted not to answer. “Seriously, Cas. I know you. You don’t say it but I know you’re lonely and trapped in this apartment.” She pouted - actually pouted, but Castiel knew her tactics too.

Castiel gave her a soft glare, pointing his fork towards her, and simply said, “Anna.”

Anna’s pouting still hadn’t stopped, and she leaned her head on the wall beside the dining table as she said, “Really, Cas. I know it’s clichè, but…”

“Please do not say, ‘no man is an island’,” interrupted Castiel.

Anna plastered a fake look of shock on her face, placing a hand on her chest as she joked, “ _What_ ? Why’d you think I’d say _that_? That’s way too clichè - even for me.”

They both smiled and laughed, continuing to eat, and the clatter of forks on plates surrounded the room for a few minutes until they finished. Anna stood and offered to clean up after both of them, but Castiel shrugged her off with, “You are my guest and I am the host.” Anna sat back down, fiddling with her phone before turning on the TV hanging on the opposite wall as Castiel washed the dishes and put the rest of the cake in the refrigerator.

He eventually sat back down on the dining table with Anna, watching a documentary about people in the service industry. An unusually good-looking man spoke on the television, answering an interviewer’s questions inside a coffee shop’s back office as the two chatted. Anna interrupted the conversation and pointed out the man to Castiel. “Cas, look, I think he’s your type!” Castiel looked at the television in response. Indeed, he was _exactly_ his type: a masculine face with a strong jaw, lined with a light stubble. His wavy hair rose slightly off his head, and it framed his face perfectly, accentuating his green eyes. He couldn’t fathom how a man could look this good. His eyes shifted to the bottom left corner of the screen, displaying the man’s name: Dean Winchester.

Of course, Castiel didn’t like to admit that he had a type, per se. He’d much prefer to believe that he would prioritize personality, intelligence, and a sense of duty over looks, so, for the second time this night, he mumbled a simple _hmm_.

“He’s pretty handsome. Don’t deny it - maybe you should meet him.” Anna’s eyes widened as she spoke, smiling with excitement.

“We likely wouldn’t have any common interests. Besides, I wouldn’t know where to find him,” replied Castiel, turning down the joke while staying as monotonous as he can so he didn’t give away that, if he had the chance, he actually would like to get to know this man better. Not that it would ever happen. Of course not. It’d be a one in a 327.2 million chance, if he recalled the latest statistics on the US population correctly.

“Oh, you’re no fun, but trust me when I say I know you’re interested,” said Anna, grinning and staring at him. Castiel always felt uncomfortable when she looked at him like this, because it reminded him of how well Anna knew him, as if she could see right through him every second of every day.

There was no escape. Anna knew him well. Too well.

When the documentary ended, Castiel had to wake up Anna, who’d fallen asleep leaning on the wall beside the table, telling her she had to work the next day and she needed to go home. He offered to accompany her in the cab, but she refused, saying, “It’s your birthday, Cas. Wouldn’t dream of it,” as she left, giving him a wink for good measure.

Castiel always thought it a terrible irony, that he couldn’t ever fall for Anna, even though they seemed like a perfect match. Unfortunately, he played for the wrong team. He went to bed thinking about his work for the next day, then dreamed of himself standing in a room full of blurry pictures of himself, where a grinning Anna egged him on to ask Dean Winchester out. The name echoed in his dreams, almost leaving a taste on his tongue, as if he were saying it himself.

_Dean. Dean. Dean._

* * *

Castiel got up in the morning before his alarm clock rang, as he always did, ever since his psychiatrist taught him the importance of routine in managing his condition. He didn’t like to be called _obedient_ , exactly, but in this case it served him well. He had finished up his usual morning routine of taking a bath, brushing his teeth, making coffee, sitting at the dining table, and opening his laptop, when a strange feeling overcame him.

He _needed_ to go outside.

Anna’s words from the night before may have had more impact on him than he thought, so he dressed up again, a little bit nicer this time to try to hide any trace of being in solitude for months on end. He grabbed his phone, wallet, keys, and laptop, and walked out of his apartment.

He immediately regretted his decision as he strode out onto the busy city street below his apartment, where people rushed along, looking down at their phones and not paying attention. Their bags flung around their sides, slamming into Castiel’s arms as he walked, almost tripping him one too many times. This was a bad idea, and he seriously needed to get inside a building, so he entered the closest coffee shop he found that had a wifi sign in front, at the corner of the street.

As he entered through the glass-paned wooden door, he took in the sweet scent of the almost empty old-fashioned cafe, with mini chandeliers on top of booths lining the wall, and some round wooden tables thrown into the center to accommodate more customers. He approached the counter and looked over the menu hung up on the top wall, not quite remembering what he used to order in coffee shops when he studied back in college.

The man at the register was crouched down with his back to Castiel, fixing or organizing something on the floor. Castiel started getting a bit impatient, realizing the man wouldn’t be noticing him anytime soon. He wanted to ask what the best seller was, make his purchase so he could sit down and start doing his work.

He rang the bell on the counter, and the man said, “Oh hey! Sorry, pal. Didn’t see you there,” as he got up, wiped his hands on his apron, and faced Castiel, who was still looking up at the menu. Castiel asked, “What’s your best seller here?” as he continued perusing the menu.

“Depends. Iced or hot? I like it hot myself.” Castiel heard the barista click his tongue twice, and for the first time, he recognized his voice. He slowly looked down from the menu, hoping he’d thought wrong, and saw green eyes, one _winking_ at him-

_Dean Winchester._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm super open to comments, as always, because I don't have a beta. At the end of the day, this is a rewrite, so I want to know if it's better this way.
> 
> Hit me up at @jargedcoffee on Tumblr for any comments (or just comment below), suggestions, and just general thoughts you wanna share. My ask box is open for anything.


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